Ponter nodded. “You are welcome to use it, if you wish.”

Mary shook her head. “Maybe later.” Her gaze fell back on the bed, pictures of a naked Ponter and Adikor entwined in sexual acts forming in her mind.

“And that is it,” said Ponter. “That is our home.”

“Come,” said Adikor. “Let us go back into the living room.”

They did so, Ponter leading the way. Adikor shooed Pabo off one of the couches and lay down on his back upon it. Ponter indicated that Mary could take the other couch. Perhaps being recumbent was the normal leisure posture for Neanderthals; certainly it would be the best way to look at ceiling murals.

Mary did indeed take the other couch, thinking that Ponter would sit next to her. But instead he moved over to where Adikor was lying down and gave him an affectionate rap on the top of his head. Adikor sat up for a moment. Mary expected him to swing his feet around, sitting properly on the couch, but as soon as Ponter had sat down at the end of the couch, Adikor lowered himself, placing his head in Ponter’s lap.

Mary felt a knotting in her stomach. Still, Ponter had probably never entertained a female he was romantically involved with in his house before.

“So,” said Ponter, “what do you think of our world so far?”

Mary took the opportunity to look away from Ponter and Adikor, as if she needed to visualize all that she’d seen already in her mind’s eye. “It’s…” She shrugged. “Different.” And then, realizing that might sound offensive, she quickly added, “But nice. Very nice.” She paused. “Clean.”

Her own comment made Mary laugh a bit on the inside. Clean. That’s what Americans always said when they visited Toronto. What a clean city you have!

But Toronto was a pigsty compared to what Mary had seen of Saldak. She’d always thought it economically impossible for a large population of humans to not have a devastating effect on the environment, but…

But it wasn’t a large population that did such things. Rather, it was a constantly growing population. With their discrete generations, it seemed that the Neanderthals had enjoyed zero population growth for centuries.

“We like it,” said the recumbent Adikor, apparently trying to move the conversation along. “Which, of course, is why it is the way it is.”

Ponter stroked Adikor’s hair. “Their world has its charms, too.”

“I understand your cities are much bigger,” said Adikor.

“Oh, yes,” said Mary. “Many have millions of people; Toronto, where I’m from, has almost three million.”

Adikor shook his head, rotating it back and forth in Ponter’s lap. “Astonishing,” he said.

“We will take you into the Center after dinner,” said Ponter. “Things are more compacted there; buildings are only a few tens of paces apart.”

“Is that where the bonding ceremony will be held?” asked Mary.

“No, that will occur halfway between Center and Rim.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Mary. “I—I didn’t bring anything fancy to wear.”

Ponter laughed. “Do not worry. No one will be able to tell which Gliksin clothes are normal and which are for special occasions. They all look strange to us.” Ponter then tipped his head down, looking at Adikor’s face. “Speaking of which, you have a meeting tomorrow with Fluxatan Consortium, do you not? What are you going to wear for that?” Rather than cut Mary off from the conversation, Hak continued to translate.

“I do not know,” Adikor said.

“What about the green jerkin?” said Ponter. “I like the way it shows off your biceps, and—”

Suddenly, Mary could take no more. She shot to her feet and made a beeline for the front door. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm down. “I am so sorry.”

And she stepped outside into the dark.

Ponter followed Mary out, closing the door behind him. Mary was shivering. Ponter didn’t seem the least disturbed by the evening air, but he was clearly aware of Mary’s reaction to it. He moved closer to her, as if to encircle her in his massive arms, but Mary shrugged her shoulders violently, rejecting his touch, and turned away from him, looking out at the countryside.

“What is wrong?” asked Ponter.

Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing,” she said. She knew she sounded petulant, and she hated herself for it. What was wrong? She’d known Ponter had a male lover, but—

But it was one thing to be aware of it as an abstract fact; it was another to see it in the flesh.

Mary was astonished at herself. She’d felt more jealous just now than she had been when she’d first seen Colm with his new girlfriend after he and Mary had split up.

“Nothing,” said Mary again.

Ponter spoke in his own tongue in a voice that sounded both confused and sad. Hak’s translation had a more neutral tone. “I am sorry if I offended you…somehow.”

Mary looked up at the dark sky. “It’s not that I’m offended,” she said. “It’s just that…” She paused. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“I know our world is different from yours. Was my home too dim for you? Too cool?”

“It’s not that,” said Mary, and she slowly turned around “It’s…Adikor.”

Ponter’s eyebrow rolled up his browridge. “Do you not like him?”

Mary shook her head. “No, no. It isn’t that. He seems nice enough.” She sighed again. “The problem isn’t with Adikor. It’s you and Adikor. It’s seeing the two of you together.”

“He is my man-mate,” said Ponter, simply.

“In my world, people have only one mate. I don’t care whether it’s someone of the opposite sex, or someone of the same sex.” She was about to add, “Really, I don’t”—but was afraid she would be protesting too much. “But for us to be—well, whatever it is that you and I are—while you are involved with someone else is…” She trailed off, then lifted her shoulders. “…is difficult. And to have to watch the two of you being affectionate…”

“Ah,” said Ponter, and then, as if the first utterance hadn’t been sufficient, “Ah,” he said again. He was quiet for a time. “I do not know what to tell you. I love Adikor, and he loves me.”

Mary wanted to ask him what his feelings were for her—but this wasn’t the time: she’d probably repelled him with her narrow-mindedness.

“Besides,” said Ponter, “within a family, there is no ill feeling. Surely you would not feel hurt if I were showing affection to my brother or my daughters or my parents.”

Mary considered that in silence, and, after a few moments, Ponter went on. “Perhaps it is trite, but we have a saying: love is like intestines—there is always plenty to go around.”

Mary had to laugh, despite herself. But it was an uncomfortable honking laugh that caused tears to escape from her eyes. “But you haven’t touched me since we came here.”

Ponter’s eyes went wide. “Two are not One.”

Mary was quiet for a long time. “I—Gliksin women…and Gliksin men, too—we need affection all the time, not just four days a month.”

Ponter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Normally…”

He trailed off, and the word hung between them. Mary felt her pulse increasing. Normally, a person here would have two mates, one male and one female. A Neanderthal woman didn’t lack for affection—but for most of the month it came from her woman-mate. “I know,” said Mary, closing her eyes. “I know.”

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” said Ponter, as much, it seemed, to himself as to Mary, although Hak dutifully translated his words. “Perhaps I should not have brought you here.”

“No,” said Mary. “No, I wanted to come, and I’m glad to be here.” She looked at him, staring into his golden eyes. “How long is it until Two next become One?” she asked.

“Three days,” said Ponter. “But…” he paused, and Mary blinked. “But,” he continued, “I suppose it cannot hurt anything for me to show affection to you before then.”